Today was Charlie's fifth birthday, so we stayed local and did the things he wanted to do, one of which was another ride on the Metrolink/Bee Network Trams.
Having carefully studied the tram map with a view to divining the best route to the Little Aladdin Cafe in Manchester's High Street, I was a wee bit bamboozled to find that the Eccles services into the city were being rerouted to take account of some engineering work around Piccadilly Station. So, having prepared for a change of Tram at Cornbrook in order to get to Shudehill, it turned out that the Eccles tram was going to Shudehill anyway and didn't require us to get off at Cornbrook. Cue confusion in my brain. As the disembodied voice in the tram kept telling us that it was a tram for Victoria via Market Street, it was hard to argue.
We walked to Anchorage station on the edge of Salford Quays to pick up the tram, and it took us through what might be called the "Canal District". The bigger and perhaps more well known Manchester Ship Canal has spawned the big dock area that's now known as Salford Quays, but the older and perhaps more significant canal we crossed and followed was the 1761 Bridgewater Canal, the first commercially viable canal in England. It was built to take coal from The Duke of Bridgewater's mines in Worsley, into Manchester, and it was later extended to Runcorn, The Bridgewater Canal was then effectively superseded by the Manchester Ship Canal, a canal that allowed ocean going vessels inland and into Salford and Manchester without having to unload into smaller boats in Liverpool before using the Bridgewater Canal.
But I digress. Both canals are long past their commercial peaks. The smaller Bridgewater Canal is a popular waterway for leisure boaters now, and the larger Ship Canal, and it's docks, have become a waterside development area similar to London's Docklands. There is, though, still much development work to be done because in between all the new, high-rise buildings, there are still a lot of dilapidated and abandoned buildings, many that have succumbed to vandalism and graffiti. The shiny, modern trams wind their way through this mix of old and new and give a curious view of a city that's definitely "on the up", but not fully there yet. I wonder if I came back in twenty years time what the place would like?
Central Manchester is also a mix of old and new; big, modern buildings with smaller, red brick Victorian buildings standing between them. Some of the older buildings are looking bad, but some have been refurbished and certainly add to the eclectic townscape. The new buildings, though, are on a much bigger scale and do make the older ones look quite out of place, or vice versa.
The central core of the city, on this Tuesday afternoon, was packed with people. Again, I thought of Toronto and the comparatively empty streets, although it is fair to say that the people in Toronto tend to be in their cars rather than on foot, so maybe that's difference?
The Little Aladdin Cafe was certainly little, so little in fact that the kitchen was in the basement and accessed by a tiny ladder. I didn't partake of much, but the vegans did, and loved it. Afterwards, we braved the Arndale Centre again, which was much better without the car. It was very busy, though, which seemed a bit odd given that it was a Tuesday afternoon, and before the schools kicked out for the day.
The birthday supper was back at Salford Quays' own Bella Italia, where the young woman who took our order without writing anything down, forgot my starter. Her initial reaction was that I hadn't ordered one, but I'm not senile yet and I knew for sure that I had ordered one. The mains were about to be served, so I said no to them rustling one up, but to make amends she gave us a discount on the bill. I'd have preferred my starter, and if your restaurant isn't using a mobile ordering system, it's best that the wait staff write the friggin' orders down. I wasn't in the mood to be trifled with, and the murderous look on my face so worried the server that she dealt with Emma rather than me. Indeed, in order to give a good tip when I said there shouldn't be one, Emma snuck up and paid at the till rather than at the table. I never knew I was so intimidating.
That evening was to be our last in Manchester, so it was packing and cleaning up time when we arrived back at the apartment. The morrow would bring an relatively early start, and an unavoidable run down the M6. Such is life.
